While You Were Sleeping
by therisingharvestmoon
Summary: Chapel/Spock fluff. Chapel suffers an asthma attack while the ship's power is out. A certain First Officer is responsible for jolting her out of her nilhilistic self-relfection. AU, slightly OOC.


**a/n -** I do not own _Star Trek._

This is a fluffy Spock/Chapel oneshot, kept bittersweet and chocked full of damsel-in-distressness. I'm acknowledging that right now because that's the angle I went from. IMO that's not my fave Chapel style, I do like it when she's portrayed as being quite strong but, IDK, maybe this is just a stage all C/S fans go through, putting her in a situation so that she knows he cares. That's the intention. FLUFF. So please enjoy it! =]

* * *

While You Were Sleeping

* * *

It was very strange living in space, Christine Chapel conceded in the darkness.

It was amazing how much they relied on the _Enterprise_'s artificial lighting system to mark the times of day. Now that it had unexpectedly gone out, she feels herself uncertain of the ship's time, or how long it had been since the vessel had lost its central system. The solar-powered lights on the outside of the ship were still aglow, and as she observed her gaunt reflection in the sickbay window, Christine felt a vulnerability she had not experience thus far in the five-year mission. Though she'd had her moments.

There was her romantic outbursts causing her exponential shame and torment, the loss of Roger – no, she couldn't think about Roger. Old-fashioned as she was, cheating was far more unforgivable than her humiliating and quite painful thoughts about a certain First Officer. It seemed that making a subject taboo in her subconscious only revealed multiple hurts regarding her romantic pain when it surfaced. It would always surface eventually, why stop it?

Her loneliness stung her then; an ache that had been building up ever since she joined Starfleet in the hope she could find her fiancé. And as that hope faded, the pain grew in her chest to replace it. Oh yes, over-emotion was better than feeling nothing at all.

The heat in the room had faded with the light. _Perhaps they've had trouble with dilithium crystals? _Christine observed her deepening frown in the multi-layered plexiglass - an ugly look on a pretty face. Her eyes had new crinkles beneath and around them. She was overtired from ploughing through a double shift to escape more time alone with herself. Perhaps that was why she made the decision then – she would not report until she was called over the Conn. She was over seeking – she would wait until someone found _her_ this time.

But who?

Her eyes slowly blurred out of focus as she saw, in her minds eye, Captain Kirk rushing to check on Uhura at her desk. If Leonard was up on the bridge, he'd see to Jim's safety first. That made sense. It was logical, even. _Ugh, what a word_. But who would worry about her in the ship's crisis? They'd remember her eventually, but it seemed she was always everyone's second choice. Maybe the _Enterprise_'s problems and her own negative thoughts this evening had accumulated.

It seemed the opportune moment to see who really cared. Though she spent long days tending to the needs of others, Christine still felt guilt. It really was a selfish thing to be doing, lurking down here in the dark. Though they'd been no alert, she was obliged to help with any casualties in the medi-wing. But there were others to take her place, and she certainly did not feel herself and up to her best performance.

It was only when she saw the movement in the glossy reflection that Christine realised that there was someone else in the sickbay. It was a disorientating feeling to go from glum isolation to immediate panic. _You'll soon forget your thirst if you're starved of oxygen._

She couldn't make out identity of the figure closing in behind her in the neon blue semi-dark, and her heart leapt into her throat with fear as she spun around, almost falling from the inertia.

Spock, who had grabbed her hand, stared impassively back at her from only a few inches away.

Christine felt immediately awkward as she realised she was so close to the man she had been trying to avoid. She'd touched his hands so tenderly barely a few weeks ago, and now he was holding her arm, probably wondering if had been raised to strike him or to act as a shield.

Whether he was debating her motives for flailing her arms or reading anything else into their sudden skin contact she could not tell. Vulcan's were not ones for showing their emotions, though it seemed the half-human ones were susceptible to their own outbursts. Her thoughts had trailed where she didn't want them to go. Though he only grabbed her arm for an instant, Christine knew intuitively that he remembered and felt as clearly as she did – their last meeting, when she had fondled his hands adoringly, his apology, her shame, Leonard telling her about the Vulcan erogenous zones, she had touched his hands…

In all but a moment he had let her go, when the flicker of recognition sparkled in her widened eyes. Of course, her mind was numb initially; each realisation in her subconscious brought new waves of humiliation. And barely a few seconds had passed.

'I am sorry I startled you, Nurse Chapel.' Spock said stoically.

Christine let herself breathe. His apology at present sounded exactly like the rejection from a few weeks back. She was cleverer than most gave her credit for – smart enough to wonder whether or not there was a deliberate emphasis on those words, but unfortunately not smart enough to be certain.

'There's no need to apologize,' she almost mumbled to her superior. 'I didn't see you in the dark.' She shivered, and rubbed her arms absently. 'Mr Spock?' He tilted his head to one side in the shadows. 'How long do you think it will be until the power is restored?'

'Based on the average time taken by repair crew, I estimate 3.4889 hours is the standard time taken to reboot the ship's energy cells. However, I am uncertain as to what cause the outage. Thereby, it is indeed possible that my inference may be off by a few nanoseconds.' The Vulcan's matter-of-fact assessment did nothing to alleviate her concerns.

She did not like being this close to the window in front of their only light source. It meant that Spock could observe her from the shadows, while she remained ignorant and backlit. Not that it mattered. He would sense her discomfort from the tone of her voice, and she would never be able to read anything in that face. Christine shuffled to the side a little so that she was standing next to Spock. Even playing ground. She pretended to observe the outer hull of the ship as she spoke.

'It seems odd that we haven't heard anything from the bridge over the Conn. Have you heard anything, Mr Spock?' _What were you doing in sickbay, anyway? How long was I there, staring at myself, before you noticed me?_

'Negative, Nurse. I was inspecting the technical inner workings of a broken medi-pod Doctor McCoy mentioned earlier this evening. He felt it required my scientific expertise. I believed I was alone when the _Enterprise _lost power, that is, until I heard your head thud against the glass.'

There's your answer, she thought. _No. I was doing my job. Because I'm smarter than you, you silly little human. Butt out. Shut up. Leave me alone…_

'It really is quite cold.' She wrung her hands together. There was nothing much else to talk about, apart from their situation. Small talk, then he'd leave, and she wouldn't have to worry about feeling so comparatively weak.

'Yes. It would seem we've lost everything, including back up and emergency reserves.'

_Of course, you'd figured that out immediately_. 'Do you think it'll be cold for much longer?' Her teeth chattered slightly as she spoke.

Christine saw Spock's eyebrow raised in the mute glow. 'I believe you have already asked that question. I sense concern over the temperature. I can offer no comfort, only the logical assumption that the crew are working on repairing the vessel immediately.'

Concern was right. As Spock approached the nearest intercom to report their safety to the Captain, Chapel began rubbing her arms, waiting for him to finish. She needed to leave. The tense landscape certainly wouldn't help…

She stopped mid-thought to see Spock wearing a frown. How unusual, she mused.

'The captain is unresponsive. I tried all networks, and there was no response. It seems we are running on empty, as they say. Communications are also out.'

Though he spoke the words factually, Christine felt apprehension and a chill that had nothing to do with the ship's ever-declining temperature.

'Oh no,' she breathed, striding past him. 'We'd better get up…' She stopped dead at the door. 'Mr Spock. The doors aren't opening.'

Still wearing the same uncharacteristic frown, Spock approached the automated doors leading out of the sickbay and pressed a few buttons on the override pad. The doors remained together like a pair of tightly-locked lips.

'This is most unusual. All automatic and manual override systems have been destroyed. Perhaps the reconstruction of the… Nurse Chapel?'

All of a sudden, she had gasped, and continued to breathe very heavily, very panicked. 'We're stuck in here?'

'It would seem so, for now.' The Vulcan said, frowning down at her. 'Something is troubling you. I assume it is related to the temperature and our current isolation from the rest of the crew?'

Christine looked up at him fearfully. 'I left my asthma medication in my quarters, Spock. If it keeps getting colder and I can't find it…'

Her panicking was not helping her laboured breath, Spock concluded. Now that the connection between the sickbay's temperature and Nurse Chapel's anxiety had been established, Spock too felt concern. 'Is there no other such relief available? We are in quite the appropriate location.'

She nodded and spoke thickly. 'Help me look.'

Suddenly, he was very close to her face. So close she thought for a moment he might kiss her. She flushed at the idiotic thought. She gasped at the closeness and lurched backward, almost falling. He grabbed her arm gently, gripping the soft, blue fabric of her uniform. Why oh why did she continue to embarrass herself in front of the First Officer?

'Christine. You must sit.'

She teetered toward the corner furtherest away from the doors, from where unnaturally cool air was being sucked underneath. Still grasping her clothing, Spock helped her sit at the sickbay's entrance desk. She didn't even realise that he'd called her by her first name as she'd previously requested. Her head slowly stopped spinning as she sank into the chair. Spock looked through every cupboard and drawer, flicking through vials and packets of pills with his fingertips. He withdrew a muscle relaxant hypospray if he could not find anything more appropriate. His search was not looking fruitful.

'May I ask why you do not carry these vital drugs on your person?' He asked in a flat tone.

She felt her cheeks aflame. 'I wasn't thinking. Long day. Didn't really think I'd need them.'

'I could only find this.' He showed her the tiny vial of medicine. She recognised immediately that it wouldn't be enough if it was a severe attack.

'I believe it would be wise for you to inform me of any aggravating circumstances that I may help mitigate. Though I am not a medical expert, I have had much training - '

'Yes, Mr Spock,' Christine interrupted as politely as she could. 'The cold for one. Tightens my chest.' She leaned her head against the wall wearily. Taking a breath to speak, the air hitched in her throat and she coughed violently. If Spock was startled, his face didn't show it. 'Being overtired doesn't help.' Her sardonic tone made his eyebrow rise. She coughed again, weakly. 'Anxiety…'

He cocked his head to one side. 'Anxiety?'

'Thinking how bad it can get only makes it worse.' _And you. You make me so anxious. _She noticed how loud and husky her breathing had gotten, the expulsion from her lungs visible in the space between them. Despite the beauty of the burning stars around them, space could freeze.

'Perhaps a distraction would be necessary. Being part Vulcan, I am able to meditate and ignore my surroundings if they prove to be hindering. I believe it would be reasonable in this case to assume you have little experience with this kind of self-control.'

Her eyebrows raised and she felt her eyes sting. Spock immediately realised the double-meaning in his words.

'I am sorry. My choice of words may seem to have been conveyed out of unkindness. I assure you Nurse Chapel, my only implication was in response to your worries about exponentially-increasing worries as your asthma progresses. No other instance crossed my mind.'

_Well, clearly it did, _Christine thought. 'It's alright, sir.' She wheezed.

Despite Spock's impassive face, his cheeks seemed to be tinged a slightly darker olive.

She decided to make the first move to change the subject. 'It's so cold. You aren't shivering.'

Spock approached the table and sat down the hypo and glass vial. 'I am many degrees warmer than average humans. Vulcan has an extremely icy, rough terrain. It does not make for an easy childhood.'

It was a very frank response, and she bowed her head for having asked such a personal question. However, when she raised her eyes, he was looking at her intently. 'I have noticed the colder the sickbay gets, the finer the tendrils of your breath are. I have also noticed your recent discomfort with me.' She flushed once again, her tired eyes widening. This caused another bout of mucus-producing coughing. 'Despite the jibes of Doctor McCoy, I do feel very deeply, and I can sense the emotions of those around me, though the reaction of humans to certain situations does remain…' The corner of his lip twitched upward. 'Foreign to me. My suggestion is thus – I would like to embrace you so that you may obtain some of your body heat. Is this agreeable?'

Despite the pain in her chest and tightness in her throat, Christine could not believe her ears. She coughed, wheezing.

She would have to be a robot not to detect the intimacy of the situation, despite her dire predicament. She could feel her blood vessels dilating as her body tried to keep her warm. They also made her throat swell. She coughed again, and instead of speaking, a sob escaped her constricted chest. She nodded. She tried to raise her arms as she coughed, but they were limp at her sides. Her breath was a rattling shudder.

He moved closer to her, his eyebrows drawing closer together. She was out of energy, and they were running out of time. Christine nodded, trying to move closer to him feebly.

_Please._

Spock gently knelt on the ground and pried her from the seat into his outstretched arms. She was not prepared for his warm touch, and had not realised how cold the room had gotten. This time when she tried to cough, there was no space to suck the air into her lungs. Her throat had unexpectedly constricted.

'Christine?'

She buried her face in Spock's shoulder as she'd always dreamed of doing. As the dark blanket of unconsciousness enveloped her, she felt a sense of peace.

'Christine?' Christine!'

Her head spun, and she felt that in death, she could make him feel as uncomfortable as she wanted. No. Death was not vindictive, and neither was she. Her tears betrayed her, further blocking her nose and throat. She grasped at the warm Vulcan, trying to meld. _I'm here, I'm here. I don't want to die, I don't want to die._

'Christine, please.'

She was answering him. Why couldn't he hear her?

* * *

'Christine!'

Spock tilted her upper body over his forearm and thumped hard on her back. A glob of mucus was expelled from her mouth onto the floor. He whacked her back in between her shoulder blades again. There was still no response. He lifted his hand to her cheek, which was cold as death. Though irrational, he tried to convince himself that it was his alien heat and the difference between their temperatures, and not her skin that was grey and cold. He felt her heartbeat and was relieved.

He grabbed the hypo and pressed it into her arm immediately. There was still no change, no sudden intake of breath.

Gently, he set her down on the cold floor and stood. He turned toward the door, and plunged a fist through the steel. He chided himself for not doing this in the first place. Though his strength was often used in crude situations, he had no idea the danger she would be in. First hand experience could not be learned through a book. This was apparent in regard to these delicate humans. It took him less than a minute to pummel through to her quarters, finding it in the pitch-black. He groped around for a moment before finding the aluminium canister with her air-compressed medication. He smelled the metal and the drug inside with his keen nose.

It just 2.34 minutes Spock returned, though he had no idea how long Nurse Christine had been starved of oxygen.

Though he acted swiftly and without fault, mounting panic arose in his chest. He had no idea how these humans performed their duties under constant anguish. He put the mask on this pathetic creature before him and depressed the canister. She was so fragile in his arms, so emotional. The grip of terror really did affect this species so. Her lack of movement now was having a similar effect on Spock himself.

'Please, take a breath Christine,' he urged in the most sincerely concerned tone he had ever produced.

And she did. The drug relieved the muscle spasms that had caused closed her airways. She drew in another whistling breath, and another. As she did, her eyes opened to look up at him, clear, blue and frightened. He depressed the canister again, held her and rubbed her back. Her inhalations were gurgling, wheezing, awful noises.

'Breathe from in here,' he coaxed, his hand just below her ribs. She did, and it hurt.

Christine grimaced suddenly, pushing Spock's hands away. She coughed into her hands. He reached up onto the desk and found a Starfleet issued towel. Handing it too her, she coughed into it, dry and wracking. The coughs shook her whole body. Spock murmured encouragingly, tenderly rubbing her back.

He took the soiled towel from her once she was finished, and gently lifted her up into his arms. 'I may have leave now to get you medical assistance, though you are already in the appropriate place for recovery.' His voice was not entirely free of the panic she'd seen in his eyes when she came to. Though the dread was over, his hand came up to her face. Calm washed over her at the touch. She felt so fiercely protective and loving of him. No, of her? _Was she feeling Mr Spock's emotions?_ She felt tears prickle her eyes. His impassive face gazed back. She responded in sobs, the only way a human could to such intense sentiment.

Blinking, she realised the lights were back on, though the only heat she felt came from Spock. Her gaze travelled behind the Vulcan to the ruined door. Then her eyes went back to him. Her own thoughts became less mingled with his and soon, all she felt was the calm exuding from him.

'You will be alright now?' The tender touch of one hand behind her neck and the other on her face made the question seem ambiguous. Her throat was raw, and so was the affection she felt for him. She knew it would be noticeable through their bond.

'I will be.'

Christine's clear blue eyes held his own. Hopefully, her answered would be received as correspondingly indefinite. She would eventually get over him. Would it be before or after he chose to repress those feelings as powerful as the torrent of a waterfall?

His sensitive, burning gaze held her for a moment more. She had never felt anything like that before. She didn't know a lot of what Spock was capable of. Then the crew's footsteps echoed in the hallway and questions were thrown around. The room was slowly thawing out, and she felt the mental link between them slip away. Strangely, Chapel felt emptier than she had. And ten times more exhausted. She looked up to see Leonard and Jim smiling in relief. Perhaps she was valued more highly than she'd first believed.

'You will be alright.' Spock assured firmly, stroking her blonde fringe tenderly.

If this action was surprising to McCoy or Kirk, they didn't show it. But they did not see the look in Spock's eyes, either. Gently helping her to stand, Spock explained what happened in less intimate detail to his colleagues. From her bed in the medi-wing, Christine felt drained. The dimmed lights conveyed the real sense of night that she needed. Covered in a warm blanket and breathing evenly from a respirator, she soon fell asleep.

* * *

What was it about a woman sleeping? A woman who was not his bond mate?

Spock's lower back ached slightly from standing for hours. He was less than half a foot away from the sleeping Nurse Christine Chapel, finally sitting in a chair after being begged relentlessly by the nurse on duty to at least sit down. The spice of her sweat tickled the back of his throat, and she felt her comfortable warmth radiate on to his face from beneath her nightclothes and sheets.

He found himself paying attention to almost a thousand things that he should be ignoring. The intimacy of her breathing. The powerful up and down of her chest. The edginess of her eyes darting beneath their made-up lids. The vulnerability of her slightly parted legs. He could not lead her astray, this fragile human woman. Guilt? A little maybe. For what he had already revealed. Not for helping her. Not for the further thoughts about her. Perhaps because he did it so readily. She practically melted into his emotions, like his own parents never could have. Like no one else ever would. Her life in danger had filled him to the brim with emotion no amount of resolve could ever control.

Spock leaned forward and gently kissed Christine's temple. He indulged his human half by watching her reaction. The upturn of her mouth pleased him. And then he remembered that she did not care about the conflict. Human or Vulcan, she would openly make him hers.

She moaned a little in her sleep. And inside, so did he.

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_Please review._


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